Red Queen
by Fluffy Queen Miri
Summary: Only the best Slytherins could pretend to be Gryffindors. Minerva Mcgonagall knew this better than anyone - after all, she was one of them. AU Darkfic LV/MM Dark!Minerva - be very afraid :P
1. Chapter 1

A/N -

So before DH came out, there was a fan theory that Mcgonagall was a Death Eater. Obviously, it turned out she wasn't.

But what if she was.

JKR said that she was a Hatstall between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.

But what if she wasn't.

What if she was a Hatstall between Gryffindor and SLYTHERIN.

What if she really belonged in Slytherin, but because she was a half-blood, she thought she could do better in Gryffindor.

What if she was a double agent.

What if she was another Snape.

What if she passed information from Voldemort to Dumbledore, who thought she worked for him.

What if she passed information from,Dumbledore to Voldemort, who thought she worked for him.

What if she worked for neither of them.

What if she was a better schemer, a better manipulator, a better SLYTHERIN, than any of them?

What if Voldemort had won?

She would have revealed herself as his top Death Eater.

What if the Order won?

She would be the new headmistress of Hogwarts, and no one would suspect a thing

What if Mcgonagall was the one who won, in the end?

**Red Queen Chapter 1**

They met on the Hogwarts Express, first year. The slim girl with her dark hair in a neat pony, and the pale boy with his frayed, second hand trousers. She tells him that her entire family have been in Gryffindor, and her parents expect her to be there too, although she thinks she would be a better Slytherin. He tells her that he was brought up by Muggles, but despite that, he also thinks he will be a Slytherin. They decide then, that whatever houses they are in, they will stay friends.

After all, they are, although they don't know it yet, the greatest minds of their generation.

They sit in the same boat, and stand together, waiting to be Sorted. She is called up first.

" Mcgonagall, Minerva!"

The Hat slips over her eyes, and all is quiet.

" Well, well. Minerva Mcgonagall, a direct descendant of Godric Gryffindor himself. Should I bow?" asked the Hat snidely in her ear.

" But no, you aren't a Gryffindor."

" No. I never thought I was."

" You are ambitious, I see. Cunning, willing to manipulate, to scheme, to let others do your dirty work. My dear, there is only one place you could POSSIBLY belong... SLY"

" No!" Minerva's emerald eyes widened, and the Sorting Hat shut its mouth with a snap.

" No. I know, I really only fit in Slytherin, but my parents would never accept it. I HAVE to be a Gryffindor." The Hat was silent.

" Are you not brave enough to rebel against your parents, child?"

" No. I never claimed to be. But you will put me in Gryffindor."

The Hat huffed. " Intresting... a Gryffindor who isn't brave enough to be a Gryffindor... Oh, well! GRYFFINDOR!" Minerva barely heard the next names, her mind far away, until she heard his.

" Riddle, Tom!"

The Hat barely touched his head before... " SLYTHERIN!"

Minerva was the only lioness who clapped.

They are the Slytherin and the Gryffindor, the oddity of the school. They walk together in the hallways, followed by stares, his hands shoved in his pockets, her arms full of books.

Minerva gets out her chessboard. Tom blinks at it.

" Are magical chessboards always like that?"

Minerva laughs. The chess board has white, black and red squares, a deep marble black that you could almost fall into, white crystal, sparkling enough to see your own face in, and a dignified mahogany red, like autumn leaves. There are three sets of pieces too, and Minerva tells Tom that this chess set actually belonged to Godric Gryffindor himself, and it has three different colours because Slytherin gave it to him as an enchanted gift.

" Red versus black." She tells the board, and the white pieces and squares shimmer before disappearing. Minerva plays red. Tom plays black.

" Red Queen take Black Knight, and checkmate." She tells him. Tom stares.

" How..." He grins at her. " You're the first to have beaten me in a long time." He winks. "Are you sure you aren't a Slytherin, my Red Queen?"

That is the birth of his name for her. Minerva chuckles.

" Tom, don't you know? Only the best Slytherins can pretend to be Gryffindors."


	2. Chapter 2

**OK, I think I was supposed to do this in the first chapter, but... Anyhoo**

**DISCLAIMER - Only the plot belongs to me, everything else belongs to JKR**

**Chapter 2**

Time passes, but they are still the Slytherin and the Gryffindor. They still attract stares as they walk through the hallways together.

They both have their own facades.

They are the only ones who see beneath them.

To the school, Tom is an overconfident charmer, Slughorn's favourite, the treasure of Slug Club.

To Minerva, Tom is a boy who is the only one who could understand her, although she does not let him, because if he understands her, she will be vulnerable.

To the school, Minerva is an ice queen, the smartest witch of their year, who refuses each and every invitation to Slug Club.

To Tom, Minerva is a dangerous mystery, one that he truly wants to solve, she is the only one who understands him, although there are some things that she still only guesses at.

In third year, they both decide that the world needs to be changed.

Tom's vision is of a pureblood ideal. They will rule supreme over the pure aristocracy, as the mudbloods and muggles toil to do their work.

Minerva's vision is of a utopia. Those with the most magical ability will thrive, be given the power they work for.

After all, she tells him, there is no such thing as evil. There is only power and those too weak to seize it. But, for now, she lets Tom believe that their ideals are one and the same.

They know that Dumbledore is their greatest threat. He has never trusted Tom, but Minerva is one of his noble Gryffindors. She throws herself into his subject, Transfiguration, and asks him for help in gaining the Animagus transformation that she has already managed. Her true subject, Potions, she deliberately flunks. Whilst her marks in Potions lessons flag, she experiments with Dark, illegal or dangerous potions, hidden away in various corners of the school, developing her own potions. Poisons are her speciality, and some of her discoveries she keeps even from Tom.

Tom, on the other hand throws himself into researching his lineage. They discover he is the heir of Slytherin, and it doesn't take them too long to find the Chamber of Secrets. He spends hours training the Basilisk, just as Minerva spends hours creating poisons. They are a perfect team, the Heirs of Slytherin and Gryffindor.

Minerva anagrams his full name into Lord Voldemort.

Tom has already christened her his Red Queen.

For now, they work in the shadows. Tom plays his part by recruiting his fellow Slytherins to their cause. He tells them that they have another leader, their Red Queen, but they never find out who she is.

Minerva plays her part by becoming Dumbledore's apprentice, his best friend. He comes to trust her, more than anyone else. He tells her about how their side is slowly losing against Grindelwald, how he intends to go and fight. She updates him on the latest Gryffindor common room gossip. They play chess, both literally and figuratively.

" Red Queen to G7. Checkmate."

Minerva always wins.

When they are in fifth year, he kisses her on the cheek before his Transfiguration exam, because he says he needs her talent.

When they are in the sixth year, she kisses him fleetingly on the lips before her Defense exam, because she says she needs his luck.

Just as they begin their seventh, and final, year, they kiss properly. They will never agree on who started it, but from that moment on, the Head Boy and Girl, the Heirs of Slytherin and the Gryffindor, Tom and Minerva, are more than friends. They are more than just an ordinary couple. For the first time, they truly become Lord Voldemort, and his Red Queen.

Dumbledore worries about her, and he tells her so. She brushes it off, acting the overconfident, trusting Gryffindor he thinks she is.

That Christmas, she attends Slug Club for the first time.

Tom announced to his Death Eaters a few weeks before, that they will finally see their Red Queen at Slughorn's Christmas Masquerade. They all scramble for invitations, and those who don't get them volunteer to serve drinks, supposedly for the extra credit.

Tom is easily recognisable. He wears a set of immaculate black dress robes, hemmed with emerald, and a silver mask decorated like a snake's face with slitted eyes covers his face.

Minerva is completely unrecognizable. Her floor-length crimson dress hugs her figure like nothing she would ever wear, and a matching mask shields her face from view. Her black hair tumbles down her back, and a delicate tiara, set with dazzling rubies, sits atop her head.

Every eye in the room follows the mysterious couple, because, well, isn't Tom Riddle with Minerva Mcgonagall? But then, he is a Slytherin. It wouldn't surprise them if he was cheating. Wait, couldn't she actually be Minerva Mcgonagall? No, don't be ridiculous, she doesn't go to Slug Club, and she was heard complaining about feeling sick earlier.

They dance together.

Tom sees the gaping Death Eaters, in awe of his Red Queen, and smirks.

Minerva sees a concerned Dumbledore, who clearly thinks that Tom is cheating her, and smirks.

It doesn't take long after for Dumbledore to tell Minerva, in a sorrowful tone, that he thinks that Tom has not been faithful.

It doesn't take long to convince Dumbledore that Tom has broken Minerva's heart. He tells her the story of his dead sister, Ariana, and of his former friend, Gellert Grindelwald. Minerva pretends to be consoled. Really, she is thinking of how she can use this weakness.

To the world, Minerva and Tom are something that might have been.

To each other, Minerva and Tom are a refuge. A refuge from students and staff who glare disapprovingly, and say that they thought he was better than that, and a refuge from the pitying glances of other students, the quiet offers from staff to talk it over.

It takes all of their Slytherin ambition to stay strong.

"But after all," says Minerva, capturing Tom's rook, " Only the best Slytherins can pretend to be Gryffindors."

**Read and Review please! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer : Nope, still not mine.**

**Chapter 3**

Myrtle is Petrified. Tom and Minerva look down at the stiff girl, and point their wands at her. They say the spell together.

" Avada Kedavra." They use it to create their first Horcruxes. Minerva is content with just one. Tom intends to make many. They hold these fragments of their souls carefully - souls are fragile things.

They have already developed a way to mark their Death Eaters, but Minerva is not a Death Eater. Ton believes that she is his follower, and so he wishes to mark her out too.

But a simple Dark Mark will not do for his Red Queen.

He presses the Horcrux into her left forearm, and she hisses quietly. The pain is intense, but it is over quickly. A lightning shaped scar sits on her forearm, marking her as his.

She presses her own Horcrux into her crown, the ruby coronet of the Red Queen. It sparkles with something more than just reflected light. Tom lifts it up, gently placing it on her dark hair, as his lips capture hers.

" We, my Red Queen, will be legendary." he breathes against her ear.

They are bound together now, and their fate is sealed. The Wizarding World will just have to get ready.

They graduate, and take their separate routes. Minerva fights Grindelwald. She tells Tom that whilst Grindelwald's ideas are correct, which is what Tom wants to hear, Grindelwald isn't thinking of the future. His goals are short tern, unlike theirs. Tom concedes this point, although it is not what he wants to hear.

Tom works in Borgin and Burkes. He uses the opportunity to continue furthering their campaign. Minerva occasionally makes appearances, but Tom is still the only one who knows her identity.

When they make their attacks, the Death Eaters cast the Dark Mark into the sky above. Tom smiles at Minerva, slipping his arm around her waist, as they see it float above them. They look terrifyingly beautiful together, Lord Voldemort in his ashen grey robes, and his Red Queen, in a mask coloured like blood.

" What do you think?" He whispers.

" It's missing something." murmurs Minerva. She whispers something, and a scarlet crown encircles the skull's eerie green head. Tom chuckles.

" Nice touch." From then on, if the Dark Mark wears a crown, people know that the Red Queen has been there.

Time passes, and they are married. No-one knows. They are married by a bonder, under the Imperious Curse, but Minerva cannot bring herself to care. Tom is the one who wanted them to be truly married in name. Minerva already knows that she carries something of his, much more important than the wedding band on her finger. After all, she has his soul in her wrist.

Tom applies for a teaching position at Hogwarts. He is refused, and they spend the night afterward cursing Dumbledore and his shrewd mind.

It is a welcome surprise , then, the next day, when Minerva receives an owl offering her the very same position.

At first, Tom is angry. How DARE Dumbledore turn him down in this way?

Then Minerva reminds him that Dumbledore thinks that she is an oh-so-noble Gryffindor. After all, she reminds him, only the best Slytherins can pretend to be Gryffindors.

And besides, in a position like that, who better to teach young minds?

Who better to turn young minds?

Minerva is an excellent teacher, and, despite her youth, she rises quickly in her colleagues esteem.

She plays chess with Dumbledore, still, just as they used to.

Minerva always wins.

They talk, exchanging memories of their "failed" romances. He tells her of how he supported Grindelwald's every move at first. She tells him of how she was the one who created the name Lord Voldemort.

One night, as they play, whiskey has loosened Dumbledore's tongue.

" You know, Minerva," He slurs slightly, " You don't, don't have to be perfect, all the time, you know?"

Minerva freezes. " Pardon?"

Dumbledore hiccups. " Don't think I didn't notice. Right after you and Riddle broke up. You've never been the same. Always trying to be this perfect girl."

Minerva only says: " Red Queen takes White Knight. Checkmate." She helps him to his feet, and he stumbles. She helps him back to his own rooms, internally smirking all the while.

Dumbledore apologises profusely the next morning, but it is done. She knows now. He thinks that she is a tortured heroine, guilt-ridden because her research, her anagram, created Lord Voldemort. He thinks that she is afraid to love again after Tom. To the world, she shows a facade of a stern, heartless teacher. Beneath that facade, there is the mask she shows Dumbledore, the guilt-ridden woman who will never allow herself to love again. Yet again, beneath that, she is the Red Queen, the confident Slytherin who stole Lord Voldemort's heart. And yet still, beneath the mask of the Red Queen, she is Minerva Mcgonagall, the manipulator, twisting Tom to do her bidding, dripping poison in Dumbledore's ear. Beneath every one of her masks, she is not just a Slytherin. She is a genius.

She accepts Dumbledore's apology easily, and now they are closer than ever.

Lestrange. Malfoy. Black. Nott.

The old families are the easiest to turn. She teaches their children the Unforgivables, how to cast a Dark Mark, how to kill, to torture, to control. She obliviates them afterward, replacing their memories of her with memories of meeting with Tom himself, and, of course, her alter ego, the Red Queen. The Lord Voldemort of her creation is perhaps even deadlier than the original.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

She reminds Minerva so strongly of herself - or who she might have been had she been in Slytherin. The only difference is that Bellatrix is bloodthirsty. Minerva has always preferred to manipulate others to do her dirty work for her.

The Red Queen takes Bella under her wing. She is her protege, learning, not just the Unforgivables like the others, but more arcane, mysterious, Dark Magic than the others will ever know. But still, the Queen does not teach her everything.

Because there is a madness in Bellatrix. Tom and Minerva both know it, and they both know that Bella will eventually have to be put down, have to be killed. But she is so eager to learn, to please, to worship. So, for now, they let her live.

**Read and review please! TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Anything recognisable belongs to JKR - But am I allowed to say that evil Mcgonagall is mine?**

**Chapter 4**

There is a traitor in the Order of the Phoenix. Minerva, of course, knows that it there is not one, but two. Herself, and Peter Pettigrew. She had to say, she was surprised when he approached them offering to pass on information.

They sat in the Longbottom's living room, the air thick with tension. Everyone was formulating their own opinions. Who could be the traitor?

" Who do you think, Minerva?" asked Dumbledore, bluntly, his blue eyes for once without his twinkle. Minerva narrowed her eyes, pursing her lips, surveying them all.

" Well, it's not you, Sirius. Your family are Death Eaters, and so it makes no sense. James, your wife is Muggle-born, if you joined, she would be killed. Not you, or Lily. Peter, I can't see any actual advantages that joining them would give you, Remus is smart enough to know that he would be treated even worse under their rule, and Frank and Alice wouldn't risk it, not whilst Alice is pregnant. Alastor's spent his entire life fighting the Death Eaters, so it's very unlikely, and Deadelus is Muggle-born. I know I'm not the traitor, " she lied, " So that leaves me with one question." Dumbledore looked at her quizzically. She looked him straight in the eyes. " Albus Dumbledore, are you secretly passing on information to You-Know-Who?"

Sirius fell off his chair laughing.

Minerva was the one everyone trusted. She was the one who everyone brought their problems to. She knew everything. She knew that Severus Snape had turned traitor, so together, she and Tom manipulated him into doing their bidding all the same. She knew the prophecy about either the Longbottom's, or the Potter's son, and so she and Tom made plans to kill the child. She knew that Dumbledore was the master of the Elder Wand, but this, she kept to herself, instead, placing her chess pieces so that, someday, the wand would fall into her own hands.

She walks down the darkened street. Dumbledore doesn't seem surprised to see her there. He assumes Hagrid has told her.

" Is it true, Albus? Lily and James?"

He sighs, and tells her what she already knew, from the moment the Horcrux in her wrist burnt. Tom has fallen. Only temporarily, of course, and she will easily manipulate some poor soul to bring him back. She looks down at the baby in her arms. She gasps aloud when she sees the scar in her forehead. Dumbledore is nattering some nonsense about a scar on his knee, and Hagrid is bawling loud enough to wake the entire neighborhood, as the blood roars in her ears, staring at the scar. The lightning shaped scar. Just like the one on her wrist.

She wonders if she should kill the boy now, whilst he lives with the Muggles, whilst he is not much of a threat. But no. Too few people know of the boy's location, and blame would fall at her feet eventually.

So she will wait, ten years, looking for ways to bring her husband back.

Minerva gently places the Sorting Hat on Harry Potter's head. It falls over his eyes, and he tenses up. Minerva narrows her eyes at the skinny boy with messy hair.

" GRYFFINDOR!" Yells the Hat.

With all the thunderous applause and cheers coming from the Gryffindor table, no one hears the Head of Gryffindor snort under her breath. Honestly. How utterly predictable.

Minerva whispers underneath her breath, her wand leaving emerald sparks hanging in the air, as the chess pieces groaned and shifted under her spells. The black king straightened his crown. The white pawns stretch, cracking their marble backs. The chess pieces bow to her, their queen. The others are all gaping at the massive stone figures who dominate the room.

" Why chess?" asks Dumbledore.

" Chess is a game of rules. You can't cheat. Chess is a game of pure skill. Besides," she grinned, " These chess pieces belonged to Godric Gryffindor himself. If you can defeat them, you probably deserve to go to the next room." She turned back to the pieces, and narrowed her eyes. " Win at any cost." She commands.

She, by accident, of course, neglected to mention was that,there was a passcode that would let you past the of course, she would never allow Quirrel to "overhear" her enchanting it. After all, only a Slytherin would do something like that - and, of course, everyone knows that Minerva Mcgonagall is as far from Slytherin as you can get.

They have finished enchanting each and every obstacle to protect the Stone. Minerva herself had pointed out that he could simply have used a secret keeper - she'd even offered to do it herself. It would have been much easier for her. Voldemort would have returned, Quirrel probably dead, and the staff would have found her bound, unconscious and "tortured" in her rooms - a foolproof plan. Except Dumbledore was a fool. And so here they were.

The Mirror of Erised stood before them, ornate frame glittering in the faint light. Each of the staff members took turns, stepping up in front of it. Dumbledore seemed pale, as he laughed it off, claiming he saw socks, and Severus looked as forlorn as a lost puppy. She could easily guess what they both saw. The others, she noticed, seemed particularly keen to know what she saw. How predictable.

She steps forward, and all previous resolutions to show no reactions are forgotten - her breath hitches, blood draining from her face. She reaches out, pressing her hand against the cold glass.

An eleven years old girl stares out of the mirror at her, holding the hand of a boy. They are smiling, completely at ease with one another. They both have dark hair, but he has dark brown eyes, whilst her eyes are bright green, like emeralds.

Minerva and Tom

Tom and Minerva.

Except no. She stares enviously at their matching silver and green tie, the snake crests, the emerald lining of their robes.

" What do you see?" Snape asks. Her cheeks feel suspiciously wet, and she wipes them surreptitiously on her sleeve.

" Just... something that might have been." She says, hating how weak she sounds, how her voice cracks ever so slightly, how they all look at her, confused, except Dumbledore, who thinks he knows. She wonders how they would react if they knew what she really saw. They would be shocked.

She is Minerva Mcgonagall, the Gryffindor, after all. But then again, only the best Slytherin's can pretend to be Gryffindors.

**Read and Review please! TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

**I'll tell you if they ever become mine. They aren't, though.**

Minerva silently cursed Lucius Malfoy. What the devil had possesed him, giving a Horcrux to a student! Admittedly, he hadn't known that it was a piece of his master's soul, but still! She looks down at Hermione Granger. She could only be glad that she was only Petrified, as was Penelope Clearwater. Both smart, powerful witches. They would, she thought, do well under her regime... But she was getting ahead of herself. There would be time enough for that later.

Minerva pressed a hand to her heart, as Potter and Weasly trooped in, covered in mud, filth and blood. Those boys, completely predictable. They seemed to have some kind of hero complex, and now they didn't even have Granger to restrain them. Minerva cannot but feel a little pissed. More than a little pissed, actually. In the past twenty four hours, she has dealt with angry governors trying to reinstate Dumbledore, who is apparently missing, has helped Severus brew a Mandrake potion, which is liable to blow up, marked Transfiguration exams for most of the school, spoken with worried parents, found out that Potter, Weasly and Lockhart were all missing, calmed down various hysterical students, all whilst running on less than two hours sleep. And to top it all off, Dumbledore had appeared out of seemingly nowhere, announced that everything would be fine, before sitting down to read the newspaper, leaving her running around, trying to clear up the mess. Yes, Minerva Mcgonagall was pissed.

Black spots danced before her eyes, as she berates them.

" Could have got yourselves killed!" She says, folding her arms over her chest, playing her part with ease.

" Really, Minerva, I think they acted most admirably." says Dumbledore, crunching a lemon drop. Minerva huffs. He isn't the one running on two hours sleep, is he? She mumbles:

" You don't pay me enough for this."

" Well then, Harry." He says, " Why don't you explain to us what happened?" Potter launches into his story, and Minerva massages her scalp, trying to clear her head, before getting up to make a cup of tea.

" But I still don't understand. Who opened the Chamber of Secrets?" asks Arthur Weasly. Potter replies:

" It was Tom Riddle." Dumbledore snaps his head to her. Minerva already knows, but Dumbledore expects a reaction, and really, it's all his fault anyway. She lets go. As if from a great distance, she hears the teacup shatter as it hits the floor. She FINALLY allows herself to do what has been threatening to happen for the last half an hour. She faints.

She groans as she comes to, head pounding. She cracks one eye open and sees the blurry faces of Potter, various Weaslys and Dumbledore looking down at her. Opening her eye wider reveals that she is lying on her sofa. " This is your fault, Albus Dumbledore." She mumbles.

" Guilty as charged, my dear. You've been overworking yourself." Dumbledore looks concerned, upset. Gullible old man. She closes her eye.

" My fault." She croaks. He shakes his head violently.

" No, Minerva, you're right, I should have..."

" Not that. The diary." She doesn't meet his eyes. " I gave it to him. I told him how to put his memory in is my fault."

" Oh, my dear..." Dumbledore gathers her into his arms, and holds her tight. None of them notice the gleam of triumph in her eye.

The next two years were some of the most nerve wracking for Minerva. She experimented, tested, and tinkered with countless potions, many of which were declared illegal centuries ago. It took months of sleepless nights, smuggling illicit ingredients, and searching forgotten, arcane books, buried deep in the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts Library - she even goes as far as to burgle Dumbledore's private library - to discover what she needed. But, eventually, her hard work has paid off.

She chants in a long-forgotten language under her breath, a single drop of scarlet liquid falling into the cauldron, followed by a fine black powder. She stirred it gently, never ceasing her lilting half song. There was a soft pop, the potion turning a murky ink black. She bottled it, stoppering it in an ivory cask, and sends it to Riddle Manor. If Pettigrew screws this up, she thinks, she will murder him herself.

Minerva holds herself rock steady, as she watches the blue flames in the Goblet of Fire flare up.

" Harry Potter." She breathes a sigh of relief. Crouch has done his job well. In her mind, she recalls how she used a Time-Turner in seventh year to get over the Age line, so that her fourth-year self could enter the Tournament.

She watches the Champions steal golden eggs from a dragon, and still doesn't let her determination falter, hoping that Crouch has managed to implement her plan in Potter's mind. In her mind, she recalls how she developed her own barrage of spells to combat dragon fire.

She watches the Champions dive into the murky waters of the Black Lake, and hopes that her spells to keep the hostages alive will hold. If Weasly or Granger die, Potter will give up, and she cannot have that. In her mind, she recalls how she created her own potion to allow her to breathe underwater.

She watches the Champions enter the deep maze, with grim determination, and hopes that her potion will work. Well, in a matter of hours, she will see what her work would culminate to. Dumbledore pats her on the shoulder, no doubt thinking that she is worried for the students, and she smiles at him. He casts her that infernally patronising glance. The old fool.

In her mind, she recalls how, in the murkiness of the twilight maze, her hidden Slytherin had come out, how she had schemed herself straight to the centre of the maze. She recalls how she grasped the Triwizard Cup, and the sense of achievement that swelled in her chest. Potter, too, will grasp that very same cup, but he will have no swell of achievement. No, he will feel a pull in his navel, instead, tugging him to a graveyard hundreds of miles away.

Barty Crouch's cover is blown, and she silently curses, hoping against hope that Dumbledore will not ask him THAT question. Even Crouch, strong though he is, cannot resist Veritaserum, and she curses the moment she decided to deliver the Dark Lord's messages to him in person. THAT question is not asked, though, Dumbledore does not think to ask how he received his orders, for now, and thankfully, Fudge brings a Dementor to the school grounds.

She lets it kiss Crouch.

So he suffered a fate worse than death.

Tragic.

Truly, she cannot bring herself to care.

**Read and Review please! To be continued! **

**( Dan dan dan...) **


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Still not mine... *sigh***

Minerva stretched, leaning back into one of Grimmald Place's frayed old armchairs. A Doxy flew out of nowhere, and she caught it in mid air. It wriggled about in her hands before she let it go. It was one of the hottest summers in a long time, and the entire Order was sitting in the living room of Grimmald Place, lethargic and lazy, only getting up to grab a bottle of iced lemonade. Even Mad Eye was leaning back on a couch, and Minerva cast a Cooling Charm on herself for what seemed to be the millionth time.

" Just Transfigure yourself some short sleeves, woman!" cried Snape, rolling his eyes, " Are you a Transfiguration Mistress or not?!"

Minerva was too hot to bother opening her eyes, or to be polite. " Shove off."

She heard some snorts, and, lifting half an eyelid, discerned that they had come from Weasly and Potter.

Suddenly her eyes flew open, as her tightly buttoned, long sleeved blouse was replaced a fluttering T-shirt.

" BLACK!" She yelled. There was a sudden, leaden silence. Minerva clutched her arms to her chest, trying to hide what had already been seen.

" Oh. My. God." whispered Tonks.

They all stared at the massive scars zigzaging up and down their Professor's arms. A huge, jagged claw mark ran down one of her forearms, and there were multiple burn scars on the other. Both arms were covered in scars. Minerva rubbed her wrist, awkwardly, trying to shield the one last scar from view, trying to hide the Horcrux.

Granger had her hand over her mouth. " I... oh... Professor... What happened...?" Minerva Transfigured her shirt back to its original state. Sirius looked horrified, and guilty.

" Merlin, Minnie, I didn't... I mean..."

She held up a hand, only a little shakily. " It is quite alright, Mr Black. They are merely scars from a Quidditch accident."

None of them believed her, she could see. If she had been in their position, she wouldn't either.

" You don't get burn marks from a Quidditch accident, Minnie." whispered Lupin. Dumbledore looked horrified.

" Minerva... it wasn't... Tom... Voldemort, he didn't..."

Minerva looked away. Dumbledore looked, if possible, even more horrified. Minerva shut her eyes tight, trying to clear her mind.

No, it wasn't as Dumbledore had thought. Tom had never hit her. But, in a way, it had been Tom, hadn't it? Tom, who'd asked her to help him negotiate with giants, the reason for the huge gash. Tom, who'd never managed to control his Fiendfyre, causing her to step in, to fight it whilst he escaped, the reason for her burns. Tom, whose demand for more demanding, deadlier, Darker, potions had led her to using her own blood as an ingredient, the reason for the tiny cuts all over her arms.

But it was all part of her plan, and as she remembered Tom's sorrowful look as he bandaged, so tenderly, the wound from the giants, the many praises and promises he had heaped on her after she had controlled the Fiendfyre, and the utter loyalty, the utter devotion in his eyes as she handed him each complete potion, she knew that her plan was working.

Because, none of them, not one, would ever see her coming.

Dumbledore sat down heavily, and Minerva still refused to look at him. She felt a gentle probing in her mind, that Dumbledore thought she couldn't detect. After all, as far as he knew, she had no knowledge of Legilimency, or Occumulency. She hurriedly created some memories, of herself being pushed, landing on the hot coals of the fireplace, of a drunk Tom yelling something indistinct, of a sharp pain as a knife was drawn across her arm.

Better that he believed Tom had been abusive than risk him finding out the truth - and revealing her Ocumulency skills would make him suspicious. She stood up hurriedly, letting her mind wander to other things. Dumbledore exited her mind, no doubt sensing that it was all that he would see.

" Professor Dumbledore, what do you mean that You-Know-Who did that to Professor Mcgonagall?" Granger asked, and Minerva pursed her lips. Honestly, hadn't the girl ever heard of subtlety? She got up, abruptly.

" I ought to be getting back to Hogwarts. I have essays to mark."

There was a definite I-don't-want-to-talk-about-this note in her voice as she swept out. She hesitates just outside the door, pressing her ear to it. Yes, it was as she'd suspected. Dumbledore tells the Order about her so-called past with Tom Riddle, little realising that it is her present.

The school year starts. Minerva drips poison in Dumbledore's ear, about the Death Eater's favoured lairs, about the number of their supporters, and of their extensive knowledge, which grows daily as she and Tom experiment with magic like a child's toy. He never suspects that his friend, his right hand woman, might be the reason that they are losing, slowly but surely.

Arrogance is one of Dumbledore's many faults.

In fact, it is one he shares with Tom, who still doesn't suspect that his Red Queen could be plotting against him, but Tom has the will power to try and rule the world, so she will forgive him.

She gives Tom the idea to plant a fake vision in Potter's mind when she hears that he has not learnt Ocumulency, but she needs a way to remove all Order members from the school. She also needs a way to cement the Order's trust in her. They do not know how to react to the news that she was once with Tom, and they are more weary about her.

She plays chess with them all.

She plants a memory in Snape's Pensieve, and Potter cannot help but look at it. Snape refuses to teach him now. They are both so predictable.

It is easy to make Edgecombe betray the DA - a well placed Imperius is all it takes, and Dumbledore is banished from Hogwarts.

And now, the only Order member that Potter would trust is her. Umbridge is easily susceptible to the Imperius Curse, and the timing is perfect. Just in time for Potter's Astronomy OWL. She takes a deep breath. This was going to hurt.

" In chess," she whispers, " You have to make sacrifices." She pushes open the doors, and begins to run.

" How dare you!" She cries, and closes her eyes. The Stunners hit her, and her last coherent thought is that if this is typical Gryffindor behaviour, Gryffindors must be even more stupid than she thought.

**To be continued... (Dan dan dan... What will our decidedly evil heroine do next?)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Yeah, not mine. Still. **

Minerva awoke, much later, in an unfamiliar crisp white bed. She tried to get up, and winced. Her chest felt as if a herd of buffalo had stampeded all over it, and she summoned a glass of water wandlessly to her outstretched hand.A Healer poked her head through the curtains around her.

" Ah, she's awake. You can come in now, but please, try not to disturb her." Minerva rolled her eyes.

" Those Stunners hit me in the chest, not the ears, Miss Slate!"

The Healer, a Ravenclaw who had graduated around five years ago, went pink, before scurrying Dumbledore trooped in, closely followed by most of the Order, who crowded round her bed. The Weasly twins thumped themselves down by her feet, Severus leaned against the wall, Remus pulled up a chair, as did Tonks, Mad Eye stood on guard by the door, and Dumbledore sat on the bed next to her. They proceeded, in low tones, to tell her what had happened at the Department of Mysteries. Minerva played her part, a carefully timed tear running down her face when she heard about Sirius, and pretending to be proud of those predictable teenagers.

A few hours later, a tall man with greying brown hair entered. Minerva eyed him with amusement.

" You've started going grey." She observed, and Tom laughed.

" Indeed. I wonder if the Wizarding World would be quite as terrified if they realised that Lord Voldemort has considered hair dye." He said, sitting down on the bed beside her.

" I happen to think that you look very distinguished." Minerva said, smiling. He softly claimed a kiss from her, stroking her hair.

" I still can't believe you did that, Minerva. You could have been killed!" She teased him:

" Oh, so Lord Voldemort has emotions after all, does he? I didn't create a Horcrux just to be killed off by some Stunners. I fully intend to rule the world, as you very well know!" There was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes - what did she mean, "I"? But she kissed it away quickly, and he forgets easily.

Muggles lay dead around them. Minerva had never been interested in Muggle baiting, but this was more than a random attack. She herself had ensured that the Order would be here. Minerva raised her wand to the heavens, red skirts swirling around her. An angel of death, dressed in blood.

A ghostly scarlet crown floated into the air, and she looked straight into Dumbledore's eyes. He didn't recognize her, as he charged towards her. The Order leapt from concealment, and her Death Eaters started shooting spells. She sees Bellatrix cackling out of the corner of her eye as she dueled, and scowled lightly. Those years in Azkaban had finally sent the girl off the edge. She would have to be disposed of soon, but for now, she was useful. After all, she had been loyal for sixteen years - she deserved to live a little longer. She and Dumbledore circle one another. " You know," He tells her conversationally, " I've always thought that you have very Gryffindor dress for a Slytherin."

She snorts softly. So, he assumes that she is a Slytherin, does he?

" Well, you manipulative old man," She smiles, " You, of all people, should know that only the best Slytherin's can pretend to be Gryffindors."

**To be continued... Read and review please!**


	8. Chapter 8

**As you intelligent people are aware, only they plot belongs to me. Onwards!**

" Harry and I need to go somewhere tonight, Minerva."

Really. As if she couldn't guess what that meant. Dumbledore was going to die tonight.

But no. Not by Snape's hand, or by Malfoy's. No. The Red Queen would kill Albus Dumbledore, and the Elder Wand would be hers.

Unfortunately, Potter would be there. He would probably be under his Invisibility Cloak. A shame. She would have liked for Dumbledore to have known who had betrayed him before he died. But no matter.

Minerva ran through the hallways, shouting orders, as duels broke out between the Death Eaters and the Order. She flew into an empty classroom, shutting the door firmly behind her.

When the door opened again, the Red Queen stepped out, striding through the corridors, throwing her enemies out of the way with just a flick of her fingers. She made her way up to the Astronomy Tower, and waited under the cover of a Disillusionment Charm.

Dumbledore appeared, not half a minute later, along with Potter, who hid himself under his Cloak. Malfoy was next, wand pointed at Dumbledore's chest. They spoke, and it seemed as if Malfoy was considering the safety that he was being offered.

" I wouldn't do that if I were you, Malfoy." The Red Queen purred.

" Expelliarmus."

The Elder Wand flew from Dumbledore's hand, and she didn't miss the look of dismay that flashed across his face. She smiled.

" The Red Queen, Mistress of the Deathstick. Got quite a ring, doesn't it, Dumbledore?"

Snape, the Carrows, Bellatrix. They all burst through the trapdoor as one. Just in time to see her level his own wand at him. She spoke, her voice even silkier and deadlier than the curse she is about to cast.

" Red Queen takes White King, Dumbledore. Checkmate."

The green light is reflected from the jewels on her crown, and she watches as he falls. She raises her wand, and a crimson crown, the same colour as her mask, encircles the eerie green skull, floating in the night sky. She steps onto the edge of the tower, all eyes on her, and gives them a mocking salute. She steps into thin air, and there are gasps as she flies away, manipulating the air beneath her, a blood-coloured angel.

The Red Queen casts another Disillusionment Charm, and, two seconds later, Minerva Mcgonagall is running through the castle, dueling the Death Eaters, blasting Greyback away from Bill Weasly, and pulling Neville Longbottom out of the way of a Killing Curse.

The Death Eaters are gone now, and they stand, looking down at Dumbledore's corpse. She doesn't know who starts it, until the lights begin to rise from their wands, dispelling the Dark Mark floating above them. Minerva raises her wand too. But whilst the light from her wand may look identical, hers only reinforces the scarlet diadem above them, making it glow brighter than ever.

The funeral is spectacular. Minerva wipes away a carefully timed tear, and Mad Eye puts his arm around her. Potter told them all that the Red Queen killed Dumbledore, but Snape has disappeared with the Death Eaters, so they all view him as equally guilty.

" Hey," says Mad Eye gruffly, " Constant vigilance, remember? We'll fight the good fight, yeah?" She nods.

She will fight the good fight...

Well, it may not be the good fight, but she'll give as good as she's got.

And she has a great deal to give.

Their plans fall neatly into place. Snape is declared Headmaster, and Minerva manipulates as only she knows how. Unwittingly, Snape carries out their orders, thinking he is doing the opposite, whilst Minerva plays the part of an enraged, grief-stricken friend, spitting insults at him, angry at his "betrayal". She colludes with the remnants of the Order, cementing her position as Leader of the Light. She allows them a few, small victories, allows them to think they are winning. She feels no guilt, as she leads her true followers to their deaths.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

She reminds Minerva so much of herself. Same talent, same brilliance, same ruthlessness.

The only difference is that Bellatrix has a madness to match - and she has become a liability.

Minerva has stayed the same.

Bellatrix Lestrange, Bella Black, the Black Knight, will soon be no more.

Her death is instantaneous, a drop of one of Minerva's speciality poisons.

" Red Queen take Black Knight." whispers Minerva, before calling in Draco to remove his aunt's body.

The so-called "Golden Trio" are on a secret mission - but Minerva knows that they are looking for Tom's Horcruxes. Tom doesn't, though, and she doesn't bother telling him. It will make him weaker, but his soul that she guards will keep him alive for now.

Because, yes, she loves him.

But, no, she will not spare him.

After all, he is the Black King, and she is the Red Queen. For now, it may appear that they are on the same side, but Minerva knows.

If she wants to win this game of chess, of war, of lives, she must put him in checkmate.

Severus Snape died. His last words, spoken in his customary sarcastic manner, were: " Pass the coffee, Carrow."

Carrow had passed it across, handing it to Minerva, who quickly gave it to Snape. No one noticed her hand glide across the rim, and if they had, they would have dismissed it immediately. There was probably a speck of dust or something.

Snape gulped it down, glaring dull daggers at them all. The poison worked it's magic within three seconds - three seconds in which he choked, eyes bulging. Within three seconds, he went a ghastly shade of white, sweat staining his forehead. Within three seconds, he toppled over, right onto Minerva's lap.

Her ensuing shriek, as she jumped up, caused enough confusion that no one saw her wave her wand in her pocket, casting her blood-coloured crown above them, enough shock that MINERVA MCGONAGALL could act like that, to practically prove her innocence, and enough clamour that no one heard her when she spoke, ever so quietly.

" Red Queen takes White Knight."

Minerva twists the Elder Wand between her fingers, and wonders if she should kill the Malfoys here and now. Letting Harry Potter escape - she doesn't know if she is angrier at him, or the Malfoys. She settles with the Malfoys - they are easily punishable, and even if they find out something they shouldn't, they are disposable too.

Tom is seething, and they grovel at his feet. Minerva lounges back in a throne behind him, and she sees Lucius Malfoy scheming, uncertain of who holds the true power. She strokes Nagini's head softly, as the snake wraps itself around her. She and the snake have always had a special connection - supposedly because they are both bearers of Tom's soul. She looks up sharply as Malfoy mentions something.

" Potter wanted to talk with Ollivander?" She said, and they nod, desperate to appease. She looks into Tom's eyes. " They're looking for it. Potter is looking for the Elder Wand."

**Read and Review please!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Two updates in two days! Proud of me, guys? Still aren't mine though... :/**

Dumbledore's portrait looked worried - as worried as a painting could look, at least. Snape's portrait, next to it, put his head in his hands,

" But who? The Dark Lord was certain of my loyalty, I'm sure." He said, in a manner that suggested that it was not the first time he'd had these thoughts.

" And very few people knew about your true loyalty... Who betrayed us?" mused Dumbledore. Snape looked up sharply.

" So who did know?" He asked, painted armchair creaking as he leant back in it. Dumbledore paused." Well, Abeforth, my brother, knew... But he doesn't have the Dark Mark, and he wouldn't betray us..."

" Anyone else?" snapped Snape impatiently, Dumbledore frowned.

" No. The only other parson who knew was Minerva..."

The door swung open, and Minerva, now Headmistress, strode in. She hung up her cloak, her dark hair cascading around her shoulders, and both portraits went pale, staring at the scarlet dress she wore.

At the crimson silk mask that she dropped onto the table.

At the rubies on the crown, which reflected an almost unnatural light - almost as if someone's soul was being kept safe inside.

" We're screwed." whispered Snape.

" You're... you're with him?" asked Dumbledore, aghast. Minerva lazily twisted a ruby pendant between her fingers.

" And the penny drops." She drawled.

Dumbledore and Snape exchanged horrified glances, before Dumbledore attempted to hurry out of his portrait, no doubt to warn everyone. His face fell as he found himself trapped.

" I wouldn't." advised Minerva, " I've enchanted your portraits. None of you will leave this room until... until I deem it appropriate."

There was an outcry from all the previous Red Queen ignored them, and swept from the room. The Sorting Hat coughed, and the portraits quieted.

" It seems," It spoke into the silence, " That I was right all along. Only a true Slytherin like her could've pretended to be a Gryffindor for so long."

Minerva strides through the corridors of Hogwarts - People run about, barking orders at one another, assigning fighters for each leader, but they all stop to respectfully nod at her, to greet her politely. She nods back, and cannot help but feel impressed by the amount of followers Potter has managed to gather. But they will be defeated.

Potter stands at the front of the Great Hall, addressing them all.

" The Red Queen in particular is dangerous. Remember, she killed Dumbledore, and she has the Elder Wand. I don't want anyone taking her on alone."

He looks straight at her, and grins.

" Professor? We were wondering if you could make a speech?"

Minerva steps up, fighting to keep from smirking. She studies them all carefully, and notes how just by sweeping her eye over them, they stand up straighter, braver, ready to fight. One boy even bends down to tie his shoelaces up when her gaze snags on him. A ghostly smile haunts her lips.

She will have to break them. She speaks into the silence.

" You know, I would say that I was sorry." Her smile is a dagger, , a stiletto, sliding seamlessly into her victims heart, cold, sharp and deadly, " But I'm really not."

She spins, a graceful turn, and her thick teaching robes are replaced by a cascading crimson dress.

Her square glasses are replaced by a blood-coloured half-mask.

Her practical bun is replaced by a wave of dark hair, topped with a ruby diadem.

The doors fly open, and Lord Voldemort steps inside, right behind her, wrapping an arm around her waist, and kissing the top of her head

" You're late, my Lord." Whispered the Red Queen.

The battle is in full swing, but the Light Side is broken.

Tom and Minerva, Lord Voldemort and his Red Queen, the Heirs of Slytherin and Gryffindor, move in perfect sync, spells of their own creation arching from their wands.

Minerva fells both Kingsley Shacklebolt and Emmeline Vance in one arch of silver lightning. Tom kills Remus Lupin in a blast of green light.

None of them saw her coming, and they paid for their mistakes.

They view the remnants of the Order, tied up in thick ropes, forced to their knees on the marble floor. Minerva bends over Harry Potter, and her cold fingers find no pulse at his neck, and no breath from his lips. She smiles a cold, satisfied smile, looking down at the shell of the Chosen One.

Tom wraps an arm around her waist, curling a lock of her hair around his fingers. He gently pulls away her mask, and, as one, the Order flinch at the sight of THEIR Professor Mcgonagall in the arms of the Dark Lord. She is ice, cold, hard, and yet oddly beautiful.

" Professor Mcgonagall..." whispers Lavender Brown, and it echoes throughout the silent hall, " It isn't true! You're spying on him for us!" Tears are welling up in her eyes, and Tom leans down, chuckling darkly.

" Her name," He hisses, " Is Headmistress Riddle, and you would do well to remember it. Crucio!" Minerva watches as she falls, screaming.

" But Professor..." whispers Dean Thomas, " Professor Mcgonagall, make him stop!"

" Did you not hear what I just said?" roars Tom. Dean falls in a flash of green light, and Minerva still does nothing. Neville turns to her - in his eyes, in all their eyes, she is still one of them, still the one who protected and looked after them, still THEIR Professor Mcgonagall.

" Professor Mcgonagall," Tom started forward, wand out, but Minerva held out a hand.

" Yes, Mr Longbottom?"

" You... can't be working with him... right?" Minerva raises an eyebrow.

" Oh. Is that all? I thought you might have something important to say."

Neville's eyes widened, and he flinched. " But... Were... were you always this cold, Professor Mcgonagall?" His voice cracked, and she bent, tipping his chin up. He looked into her cold emerald eyes.

" You know, Mr Longbottom, " She breathed into the silence, " I do believe I was."

That was the last time anyone ever called her Professor Mcgonagall.

Those few members of the Light Side who have survived seem to crumple as one, all hope extinguished. She nudges Ron Weasly's body out of the way. One by one, they fall, the Death Eaters torturing them, killing them. She takes no part in it - she finds no pleasure in spilling blood. Blood is coated around Fenir Greyback's maw, and he prowls through them. They all shrink back from him, and he lunges at Granger. The Death Eaters cheer, egging him on, and the Order look away.

" Stop, Greyback." Her words cut through their cheers like a knife. Greyback drops Granger to the floor. There is a stunned silence. Tom's arm tightens around her waist.

" Why should he stop, Minnie?"

" Bella's dead, and I need a new protege. Miss Granger will do nicely, I'm sure."

Tom frowns. " But she's a Mudblood, Minnie."

Minerva looks him in , and her voice is a thinly veiled threat.

" That may be, but I don't take instructions from anyone, Tom Marvolo Riddle, not even you."

Everyone, the gleeful Dark and the surviving Light, holds their breath, and she lets the ominous silence hang, before laughing, and poking her husband. " And don't call me Minnie!"

Tom's laugh is definitely forced.

**Read and Review please! To be Continued...**


	10. Chapter 10

**You know the drill - not mine. **

**Also, yes, Dramione. Shoot me.**

Once they have taken Hogwarts, the rest of the world follows. Once the wizarding world falls, Lord Voldemort and his Red Queen reign supreme. Resistance is futile.

Neither of them rule in a traditional manner. Tom resides in his Manor, and controls the Ministry from there. Minerva is Headmistress, and ensures the safety of her students, ensures that despite all propaganda spread from the outside world, purebloods and muggle-borns alike are equal here. She ensures instead that those with power, with ambition, will go the furthest. She ensures that there will never be another Dolores Umbridge. Hermione is the only one who notices - she often gives her considering glances.

To save someone's life is a curious thing, even with Muggles. With wizards, it is even more so. Peter Pettigrew died because he owed Harry Potter his life, and Hermione knows this. She knows a lot, but not everything. One thing she knows :

The Red Queen will someday rule the world alone.

Lucius was killed in the battle, and Draco is the new Lord Malfoy. He is often the messenger between Tom and herself - they are both busy, after all. But Minerva has always been smart.

She notices when Hermione begins to walk with Draco as he comes to her office. She notices when they start to walk closer than just ordinary friends. She notices when they share secret glances.

She is not at all surprised when she walks in on them kissing in a cupboard.

" So." Tom draws out the word, eyes narrowed. " You want to marry her."

" Yes, my Lord." says Draco - his mouth is dry, and Hermione is pale, holding his hand. Minerva ignores them all, finishing her paperwork.

" You would dishonor the Malfoy name by marrying a Mudblood?" asks Tom, and they both stiffen. Tom twirls his wand between his fingers, and Minerva looks up.

" I should think, Tom," She says casually, " That the Malfoy name would be honoured to marry the Red Queen's protege."

Tom narrows his eyes, but doesn't say anything. Confusion is evident on the couple's faces - who, they wonder, has the true power here?

Tom offers no more objections after that.

But now, as Minerva gently undermines his authority, they both know. Both know that it is only a matter of time that only one of them rules the world.

And despite this, they laugh together. She still leans into his chest. He still strokes her hair. She still kisses his cheek. He still holds her close to him. They still whisper to one another at night, when neither of them can sleep.

" You can still amend..." Minerva rolls her eyes, and Tom snorts.

" I heard enough of your rubbish when you were alive, Dumbledore." sneered Minerva. " Do shut up now."

Dumbledore's portrait looks incredulous. " You have no regrets? None at all?" Minerva puts down her quill with a sigh. She looked Dumbledore in the eyes. A bolt of silver lightning incinerated his portrait, and he appeared, panting, in the next one.

" What spell was that?" asked Tom, wrapping his arms around her. She shrugged, and put her head on his shoulder.

" I invented it." She said.

" Wandlessly, too. Impressive." He kissed her, and Snape gagged in the background.

Tom hooked a strand of hair behind her ear, and whispered.

" You're a genius, Minerva Riddle. You know that, right?"

She kissed him, and wondered what would be the best way to kill him.


	11. Chapter 11

**I wish they were mine, honestly. **

Minerva held the sword of Gryffindor up to the light. It sparkled, reflecting the ruby pendant at her neck, and for a second, Minerva remembered Nagini's blood coating the blade. She took a deep breath, feeling unnaturally hot. She steadied the ruby-encrusted hilt. The blade bit her wrist. Blood began to seep from the wound. She reached shakily for the healing potion that she had received from the Infirmary earlier. Her hands were shaking. She fumbled, and swore as the vial tumbled to the floor. The potion poured all over the carpet. Minerva hurriedly got to her feet, and grabbed the table as black spots danced before her eyes. She stumbled toward her office, clutching her mutilated arm to her chest. It was as if a huge burden had suddenly gone - the Horcrux was dead. But it hurt. Tears flowed down her cheeks.

Merlin, she was dying.

And, Merlin, it _hurt_.

" Albus." She croaked, leaning heavily against the door. The snoring portrait opened one eye - and sat up, staring at the bloodstains that drenched her robes, at the ghostly pallor of her face, at the pain etched in her every feature. " Infirmary. Please, Albus."

Poppy Pomfrey, Filius Flitwick, Pomona Sprout and Hermione Malfoy sat in the office attached to the Hospital Wing. They stayed, they told themselves, to protect the students - they didn't think about how really, they should have been killed the minute Hogwarts fell. They didn't think about how Minerva must have bargained for their lives - because it hurt too much. The woman who had been their friend had granted them one last favour - and although they didn't know it, they were about to pay her back.

" More tea, Filius?" Asked Poppy, filling his cup. Filius nodded, and went back animatedly discussing a recent Charms theory with Hermione.

Just then, Albus Dumbledore sprinted into a farmland landscape, panting loudly. " Minerva! Blood, everywhere! Get help!"

Filius fell off his chair, as Poppy jumped up. " What do you mean?"

" I don't know, she just came into her office, and I think she might be _dying_... There was blood, everywhere..." They all exchanged glances.

" She's You-Know-Who's second in command." Filius finally spoke the thoughts that echoed through every one of their minds.

" But then, she saved us..." trailed off Hermione. Poppy mopped her forehead. " But do you think..."

Pomona jumped up.

" Look," She said fiercely, " I know that, in the end, she wasn't who we thought she was. But she saved us. She saved Hermione. Surely, some of the Minerva Mcgonagall we knew was real then? I say we help, for the sake of the bit who was really our friend."

She marched out, grabbing Poppy, who, in turn, grabbed a medical kit. The other two ran after them.

They burst into the Headmistress's office. Minerva was unconscious, sprawled in an armchair. She was pale, far too pale, and the scarlet blood pouring from her wrist stood out sharply, far too sharply. Poppy was already hard at work, rubbing a potion onto the wound, dripping two pheonix tears onto the wound. Dumbledore paced up and down in his painting, clearly exasperated at his inability to help - Hermione studied him. Even though Minerva had, in the end, been his murderer, he still cared about her. In his mind, she was still his reliable Deputy, still his protege, still the skinny Gryffindor first year who beat him at chess.

Poppy and Pomona gently carried Minerva into her chambers, Filius close behind. Hermione hurried in, helping them lay her down on the bed. Her skin, even paler than it was originally, seemed to contrast too sharply against the cream bed linens. Her breathing was shallow, and Hermione tried to shake away the worry she felt for her teacher. She felt the bandages wrapped around Minerva's wrist, and gasped. The blood had stained the bandage in the shape of a perfect bloody lightning bolt - exactly like the one that had marred her dead friends face. A Horcrux.

Hermione sat by Minerva's bed, gripping her limp, cold hand.

Because Minerva had risked her life to bring down her own husband.

Because she didn't know whether Minerva was on their side, or his side, or a side all of her own.

Because she had never seen her teacher this weak, and it scared her, so much more than she would like to admit.

Minerva moaned softly. She cracked open an eyelid, before closing it again. The light was so bright. She groaned again, pitifully. Was she dead? But no, she hurt too much, and you don't hurt when you're dead, do you? Or maybe you do, she'd never been dead before, and, dear Merlin, it still hurt so much, and if she wasn't dead, maybe she was dying. And if she was dying, would being dead stop her from hurting because it did, it hurt so much, everywhere, and she couldn't entirely remember where she was and what had happened, but maybe she'd remember soon, and Merlin, had she lost her mind?

She opened her eyes again, slowly this time. She could hear a quiet discussion going on in the corner. It sounded like Filius. And Poppy. A small, soft hand was holding hers, and she blinked blearily up at the girl who sat by her bed. Pomona's voice had joined the conversation now, and for these few minutes, Minerva was Professor Mcgonagall again, not Headmistress Riddle.

" Miss Granger?" She croaked, " Is something wrong?"

The discussion in the corner stopped abruptly. If Minerva had hoisted herself up, she would have seen Pomona with her hands over her mouth, seen Filius blinking furiously, seen Poppy screwing her eyes tight shut. But she only saw Hermione, tearing up. She struggled up, pushing the covers off herself, trying to sit up. A wave of dizziness crashed through her, and she fell back onto her pillows, too weak to move. Her eyes were falling shut again, and Hermione knew that when she woke up, Headmistress Riddle would return. So she wrapped her arms around the elder woman, pressing her head into her shoulder, and holding her tight. A weak arm wrapped around her, and Minerva smiled, before her eyes dropped shut, and she fell into peaceful oblivion. Hermione spoke, slightly choked.

" Everything's fine, Professor Mcgonagall."

Hermione Malfoy wiped her eyes, and smiled.

Because at least some part of the Head of Gryffindor, of her teacher, of Minerva Mcgonagall had not been a lie.

**TBC... I'm sorry, I know I said no one called her Professor Mcgonagall again, but I couldn't resist that, so now it just means that it's the last time she heard anyone call her that. **

**Also doesn't anyone else think that when she wakes up, she's going to be ****_so _****pissed, because she bled all over her nice carpet?**


	12. Chapter 12

**This is the last chapter... *sobs* my baby's all grown up... And they still aren't mine...**

Time has passed.

Tom wraps his arms around Minerva, as he leans back on the couch. She smiles, and Snape notes from his portrait that it is the most contented he has ever seen her. Tom toys with her hair, and she plants a soft kiss on his cheek.

They should be old by now - but they are just as young and vibrant as they have ever been. It is not immortality they have - but it is as close as they can get, and Tom will have to settle with that.

Minerva flicks her fingers, and two goblets float toward them, filling themselves with red wine. They both take one, and Tom clinks them gently together.

They both drink. The wine is smooth as Minerva sips it - but for Tom, it burns as it travels down his throat.

" I'm sorry." whispers Minerva. He pulls her into one last, long kiss, bringing one hand up to wrap in her hair. She is vaguely surprised that he can still move, and a second later, his hand falls, limply.

" You win." He breathes out, and she kisses him again, gently.

" Red Queen takes Black King, Tom. Checkmate."

He dies.

The office is silent, and Minerva rings a small bell. The sweet chime shatters the silence. Hermione comes in, and stops short when she sees the body on the sofa.

" Mrs Malfoy, if you could please remove Mr Riddle's body?" Minerva says, setting her glass down, and standing. The silence is full of questions.

" Why?" asks Hermione, finally.

Minerva hesitates. " Why what?"

" Why did you kill him?" asks Snape.

" Why did you betray us?" questions Dumbledore.

" Why did you save me?" whispers Hermione.

Minerva stops, her fingers on a red velvet curtain. She doesn't face them, and seems to be talking to the soft tassels on the hem, which she toys with.

" All my life," She whispers, " They thought they knew me. They thought I was a simple Gryffindor, thought that I was just a pawn in a larger game. The Sorting Hat thought I was a Slytherin, through and through, but even that was wrong. I do have one Gryffindor trait."

Hermione holds her breath.

" I enjoy proving people wrong."

Snape's eyes bore into her back.

" I did it, all of it, for one reason."

Dumbledore tries to catch her eye.

" Perhaps it seems silly."

She turns, and the curtains open behind her, shining golden light onto the carpet.

" I did it because I could."

Outside, a new day is dawning.

**FINIS - Review please!**


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